"What's the use of keeping up an establishment like this just for two people?" she would often remark to her husband; and he would usually reply, "For the sake of having a home into which one may retire and shut out the world." Irene would sometimes suggest the lighter expense of boarding. "If it cost twice as much I would prefer to live in my own house," was the invariable answer. "But see what a burden of care it lays on my shoulders." Now Hartley could only with difficulty repress a word of impatient rebuke when this argument was used. He thought of his own daily devotion to business, prolonged often into the night, when an important case was on hand, and mentally charged his wife with a selfish love of ease. On the other hand, it seemed to Irene that her husband was selfish in wishing her to bear the burdens of housekeeping just for his pleasure or convenience, when they might live as comfortably in a hotel or boarding-house. On this subject Hartley would not enter into a discussion. "It's no use talking, Irene," he would say, when she grew in earnest. "You cannot tempt me to give up my home. It includes many things that with me are essential to comfort. I detest boarding-houses; they are only places for sojourning, not living." As agreement on this subject was out of the question, Irene did not usually urge considerations in favor of abandoning their pleasant home. CHAPTER XVII. GONE FOR EVER! _ONE_ evening--it was nearly three years from the date of their marriage--Hartley Emerson and his wife were sitting opposite to each other at the centre-table, in the evening. She had a book in her hand and he held a newspaper before his face, but his eyes were not on the printed columns. He had spoken only a few words since he came in, and his wife noticed that he had the manner of one whose mind is in doubt or perplexity. Letting the newspaper fall upon the table at length, Hartley looked over at his wife and said, in a quiet tone, "Irene, did you ever meet a lady by the name of Mrs. Lloyd?" The color mounted to the face of Mrs. Emerson as she replied, "Yes, I have met her often." "Since when?" "I have known her intimately for the past two years." "What!" Emerson started to his feet and looked for some moments steadily at his wife, his countenance expressing the profoundest astonishment. "And never once mentioned to me her name! Has she ever called here?" "Yes." "Often?" "As often as two or three times a week." "Irene!" Mrs. Emerson, bewildered at first by her husband's manner of interrogating her, now recovered her self-possession, and, rising, looked steadily at him across the table. "I am wholly at a loss to understand you," she now said, calmly. "Have you ever visited that person at her boarding-house?" demanded Hartley. "I have, often." "And walked Broadway with her?" "Certainly." "Good heavens! can it be possible!" exclaimed the excited man. "Pray, sir," said Irene, "who is Mrs. Lloyd?"